The Burden of: Being an Orphan

I’m sure this is going to be all over the place . . but meh. I never write anymore, so I’m going to try to get this out and be done with it. I also just wanna say, My Life Partner is/was/will always be the Greatest Choice I’ve ever made. Okay, now lets go.

Please note: I’m referring to BOTH sides of my family.

I’ve never liked my family. Even as a young child, I thought the adults were unnecessarily mean, and often times it felt like they didn’t really want me around. My cousins were bullies for the most part. Some of them let their friends and other family members make fun of me on a regular basis, some of them joined in sometimes. Around 12, I realized my maternal cousins were living a completely different childhood than me. They were having sleepovers, and birthday parties, and I wasn’t ever invited. When we would get together for major holidays, they would be referring to events I never knew existed.

When I met my Best Friend, I started taking her with me to family events. At least then, I would have someone to talk to. Because most conversations between my family and I consisted of them teasing me about my clothes, or my weight, or my hair, or the way I talked, or the music I listened to, or the fact that I lived in West Bloomfield. She was around so much one of my cousins fell in love with her . . . because she constantly acted as a buffer between me and them. As we got older, a FEW cousins made an effort to get to know the college educated version of me. I was declared fake, and thought I was white, and thought I was better than everyone else. When my mom got sick the 1st time. . . most of them were MIA. So I handled that pretty much alone, except for my friends and co-workers who were there for me. It was around that time, I decided to fall back. I stopped attending family gatherings, unless I was asked to by my mother.

The DAY after my mother died, I found out I had 2 cousins I didn’t know existed. The man I’d looked up to my entire life, purposefully hid children because their mother’s . . .offended him? Got pregnant at the end of a relationship? He died in my eyes that day, I was never able to look at him the same way again. All my life, I’d been dealing with the consequences of FEELING rejected by my family, and now I know that you are ACTIVIELY rejecting a child. Morally, I just couldn’t do it. Because I knew the consequences of those actions he’d taken. I knew how that felt, knew what it looked like. That anger and grief and everything else . . . I shared with my friends. Because I trusted them with my feelings. I never brought it up to anyone else, not even the cousin who was sitting next to me the day I found out. 3 years later, when he died, my ONLY thought was . . .Am I ever going to meet those other cousins?

My father didn’t call me when my mother died. I waited, and waited, and waited. But I also wasn’t surprised, because my Father isn’t the greatest. He never has been. Most of that is his fault, some of it is because he was raised by a horrible person. My Grandfather told me I was ugly almost every day I was around him. He called me fat, told me I was lazy and dumb. In front of people, he said these things to me and it was just . . . . okay. No one ever said, hey that’s not nice. I wasn’t around my father’s side of the family much, but those memories stuck.

My father was constantly trying to get me to lose weight when I went to visit him before I was 18. I had to walk 4 miles a day, in the Arizona Sun as part of his exercise plan for me. If I didn’t make that walk by 8am in the morning, I wasn’t allowed to leave my room for that day. Meals were portioned out by calorie, and I wasn’t allowed to eat anything other than what was set out for me. It felt so restrictive I stopped going to visit my father.

My entire adult life, I’ve tried to get my father to just . . be my Parent. At least my understanding of what a parent is supposed to be. Now that I am a mother, it’s doubly hard to understand how my father as treated me in my life. I look just like you. Everything you do and say to me, makes me feel like I’m not okay, I’m not good enough, I’m a disappointment to you. When I’ve ever said anything, it’s been ignored. I’ve seen the way my father treats my other siblings . . . it’s different, at least in adulthood. Their childhood with him was nothing like mine because he was there for theirs. So they feel a way . . . that I feel a way about how he treats me.

Maybe it is me. Maybe my expectations for people in general are too high. But it’s always seemed strange to me, that friends I’ve meet on the internet have done more for me than some of my family members. Strangers have made me feel welcome, made me feel important, made me feel heard, made me feel like I wasn’t’ crazy for wanting to just be accepted as myself.

September 24, 2021 changed my relationship with MOST people. I was in a car accident and no one gave a fuck. My friends were there. My Mom’s FRIENDS were there. My Facebook friends were there. I sent a mass text to my family, telling them what happened, and asking if anyone could come get me and my child from Ohio where the accident happened.

No. One. Responded.

Later I was told maybe it didn’t go through. I recently sent another mass text from that same text thread and there was again no response, so I thought okay . . that’s why they never acknowledged my text, this thread must not work. Then I got a response in the thread . . . oh. It did work. Ya’ll just . . . ignored my text then. Cool.

I’m done . . trying to be loved by Family. I’m done . . . caring more than people have ever cared about me. I’m building a Family with my Life Partner, and it’s gonna be one that is accepting, nonjudgmental, and Gentle. Helpful and nurturing. I will make sure my children never feel rejected because of how other people treat me or them. I’m not bringing that bullshit into their lives.

If you happen to find this on the internet, and you are related to me – I’m probably talking about you. This is the last time I use the phrase, “My Family” and refer to people biologically related to me. I don’t like ya’ll – AS PEOPLE. I don’t care that I’m related to you, If I don’t agree with the way you treat me, my child, or people in general I don’t have to be around you. Or be connected to you in anyway.

Shouts to My Tribe!

The Parnell’s, and Kelly’s and Brown’s and Cotton’s and Jenkin’s and Jones’ and Anderson’s and Robinson’s and more. The Tribe my Mother created for me. Her Friends, who have never left my side and were just always there my whole life. (Sometimes, it makes me think she didn’t really like her family either, cuz I call WAY more people Auntie than she had biological sisters.) My UD Alums, my Zeta Phi Beta Sigma Family, my Mercy Girls, my Arizona Friends, my #FGSSUM07, my FB Friends who have HELD ME DOWN. Who pick up calls in the middle of the night, who send you wine by the case when you are going through shit, who give you a year’s worth of clothes for your newborns, who send gift cards when they couldn’t send anything else, who hold you when you cry then laugh with you when you’re high.

Thank you for being there. Thank you for being my True Family. If it wasn’t for ya’ll, I wouldn’t be here.

And that’s the truth.

The Love We Had Stays On My Mind

I’ve been trying to figure out how to write this blog. The 1st blog after I lost my WHOLE Heart. My whole world is different, because my Mother died.

I had a plan for this summer. It didn’t include this. I made the dopest playlist ever {See Below} . . and made my plans to travel all over. Then . . .

Stage 4 Metastatic Breast Cancer.

The foundation I’ve rested on . . . started to crumble. I reached out to my people . . . because we had decided we were going to just . . . Live the Best Summer Ever.

Together. Me and My Mommy.

• Life got in the way.
• Other peoples issues got in the way.
• 600ML of Fluid on her Lungs got in the way.

She started saying her goodbyes. She left messages for me with her friends. Directions on how to function without her.

She was tired.

I gave her permission . . .to stop fighting. To Stop being a Warrior for me. I told her everything. My plans, the back-up plans, and the people who were going to help me meet those goals.

Now She’s Gone.

• Moving on feels like the Worst Thing Ever.
• Being Happy feels like the Worst Thing Ever.
• Because she’s Gone . . . and That’s the Worst Thing Ever.

To My Brothers: Thank You. Thank you the calls, for coming, for sitting right next to me as I said Goodbye to My Mother. Thank you for the Hangouts conversations, the cards, the everything you’ve done.
To Stacey: I’m so Grateful for the way you Loved My Mother. Thank you for being ME, when I couldn’t be there. I’ll never be able to repay you for the last 2 years.
To Emmanuel: Thank you for picking me up off the ground. Thank you for helping me pick up the pieces. Thank you for being You.
To Kaitlyn, Raji, Diamond, Aaliyah, Chavi, Jo, Nisha, Dom, and Michelle: Thank you for being my Sister Circle. For answering every text and call . . .for letting me cry, and vent, and breathe . . .for the Spanish Inquisitions, Disney Adventures, and Gourmet Meals.
To The Cousins: Thank you for surrounding me with Love. Thank you for the arguments, and chicken wings, and bottles of liquor, and stop overs, and UFC Fight Nights. For loving my goofy ass dog, and checking on me daily. I promise to be around more, because If i don’t, Joyce will haunt me.

Thank you to anyone who sent a prayer, positive thought, text, message, smoke signal, edible, hug, emmisary on their behalf. I don’t have enough words to say it. So Just . . .

Thank You.

2018: The Love Letter Edition

You Bring Me Joy, when I’m down . . . 

Thank you, for being my friend.  Thank you for accepting all my flaws, and making me feel beautiful, on even my ugliest days.  Your smile lights up my day, even if I don’t see it until the end of the night.

I Like Your Face, Loser.

You’re the Finest Thing I’ve seen in all my Life. . . 

Thank you.  I couldn’t have planned for you in a million lifetimes, and yet I know this happened on purpose for a reason. Your honesty has gotten me through some hard shit . . . and I’m forever grateful.

You Know I Got You, Right . . .

Thank you for trusting me.  It meant the world to me.  Thank you for making me understand the true meaning of friendship. If ever you need me, all you have to do is call. 

You’re All I Need To Get By . . . 

Thank You, for always reminding me who I was raised to be.  Thank you, for listening to my angst and helping me work through it.  Thank you for sacrificing for me when you shouldn’t have, and for loving me enough to do so. 

You My NIGGA . . .

Nigga, I’m so glad our friendship survived this move! Summer 2019 is the travel goals.  Passports and er’thing.  Damn the Man! Also, who would have thought OKC would create a genuine friendship?!?!

You Are My Best Friend . . . 

I missed you, when you were gone.  I’m so glad we came back to each other. I don’t understand life when you aren’t there.  I can’t picture life, without you right by my side.  I Love You.

I don’t know what I’d ever do without you,
From the beginning to the end.
You’ve always been here right beside me,
So, I’ll call you my Best Friend

Hopefully, you figured out which one was directed at you.  Thanks for making 2018 great for me!

I Can’t be Racist . . . I have White Friends!

It’s important to tell anyone reading this, I didn’t actually understand that I was Black, until I was about 7.  I never looked in the mirror, and some of my best friends in Elementary school were white.  I assumed I looked like them.  Call it childish innocence.  It wasn’t until my lil’ redheaded friend’s father wouldn’t let me sleep over their house, and my mom had to explain to me why.  I don’t remember exactly how I felt, but as I remember the event some 30 years later, I’m sure it made an impact.

In high school, my group of friends was like the United Colors of Benetton.  We took our “Buddy Pictures” in plaid flannel of all colors.  There was a biracial girl, 2 white girls, a Filipino girl, and me. Imagine my surprise when one of my white friend’s dad was angry that she was friends with me.  I had talked to this man on the phone almost every day for a year.  He KNEW me, I thought.  That’s when I found out her dad was racist.

The majority of my life, I’ve befriended people based solely on merit. If you can hold a conversation, or we have something in common, or we work together, I’ll talk to you.  I’ve never really looked at race as a determining factor in my relationships with people.  I don’t mean, “I don’t see color,” I mean color didn’t determine your worth in my life.

Then Travyon Martin was killed.

All of a sudden, people I’d been friends with all my life – some people I considered FAMILY – were saying the most horrifically racist things about this CHILD who was killed by an overzealous asshole, who was probably racist.

“I mean, maybe he did attack that guy!”

“Why was he looking suspicious in a neighborhood he didn’t belong in?”

“I have to hear both sides . . “

 

For the first time in my life, I realized that my existence as a Black Woman was in no way separate from my position/worth in some of the relationships in my life. I was the Black friend,  not the black friend.  I was being regarded as “hostile,” and “argumentative” for expressing an opinion.

Then, Mike Brown was Killed.

It was at this point, I started to lose friends in droves.  Before it had been, “Let’s just agree to disagree,” and precarious alliances were formed.  As long as I didn’t express my opinions, or acknowledge the unfairness of the USA, it was all fine.  But I couldn’t be quiet. I had to express myself, the pain was too great. First it was unfollowing people on FB, then I was being cussed out in the comments of my own posts, then it was people blocking me.

I’d never specifically expressed myself as a Black Woman around my friends.  I shied away from all that, because I understood it wasn’t worth the fight.  “Just shut up MJ, they won’t get it.”  Suddenly, I was trying to MAKE people understand.  I tried to have serious dialogues with people about race in America, and how it affects everyone in some shape or form.

Then, #BlackBoyJoy happened.

There was a video of a little Black boy dancing to some song, I honestly don’t remember what song.  I shared it on my FB page, with a comment like, “I love to see a Little Black Boy having fun!” There were probably some heart eye emojis, because HELLO! Lil Black Boys dancing is ADORABLE.

The step sister of my best friend – my LONGEST friendship (since 5th grade Latchkey), my #WhiteBoyBestFriend – commented on the status something to the effect of, “All children having fun is beautiful, why just black boys?”

I can admit now, she caught me on an off day.  Any other day, I would have probably just blocked her.  But I had TIME that day. I didn’t call her out on my status, I sent her a FB message.  I’ve known her since she was 12 years old, and her mom married my best friend’s dad. I was trying very hard to maintain this relationship.  Maybe she didn’t understand that she was #AllLivesMattering my post.

I’d felt some time of way about her for years.  She, IMO, was the Epitome of what was wrong with America.  She was white, and entitled, and felt that everything should always go her way.  She had never had to be hungry, or experience life failures (to my knowledge), or fear for her life when she got pulled over by a cop.  She lived with her parents, was over 25 and had NO SHAME in that.  She did the absolute bare minimum on an hourly basis, and somehow, she felt she had the right to tell ME, that #AllLivesMatter.

I was tired of her, and her White Privilege.  Her Whiteness was offensive to me that day. I tried yall, I really did.

Seriously, my pride in beautiful black children is my own…allow me to have it without trying to make the focus about you and ur feelings

Calm your bitch down dude. I asked a genuine question. There is absolutely no need to jump down my throat. You know, I used to believe you were a tolerant and understanding person, but I have to say that I no longer see that in you. I see a very angry person and that saddens me. I don’t know what happened but I feel sorry for you.

Note: My response . . . and hers. I started off doing so well, right?!?!? Like I didn’t call her out her name, or ANYTHING. Because, growth.  But after her response tho . . . I went the FUCK OFF.

So since you already pity me [I’ll] tell you this. You live in a world that doesn’t exist. You are the EPITOME of White Privilege and Frailty. If you have paid attention to ANYTHING I’ve posted in [the] last 3 years, you would know “what’s wrong with me.” You are vain, and selfish, and I pity what your life is going to become.

Of course I had to call my best friend, and tell him what had happened.  I screenshot the convo, and told him I understood if he wanted to fall back on our friendship for a while.  Thankfully, he said, “That’s between you two.  I’m not in it.” It was at that moment when I had to remind myself – They aren’t all like that.

Some Facts which, at this point, must be Stated:

• Whiteness is a threat to most people of color. Anytime I, in my Blackness, challenge the status quo (Whiteness), I am attacked in various ways and on multiple levels.
• White Women, and their fragility is harmful to the voices of People of Color.  I’m tired of quieting my voice so that white tears can be heard.
• I Don’t Hate White People. I hate White Privilege.

All this has been written to say: I’ve been entirely too quiet about this feeling of . . . unease I have regarding our current  society.  My fear/anger is turning me into a person who pushes buttons on purpose.  I wear/purchase shirts just to piss off the people I see.  I wear my hair in an Afro to offend the eyes of people who dislike – or are uncomfortable with – Blackness. I put color in my hair because I know people think it’s “Ghetto,” not creative, because I’m Black.

There are a myriad of White people in my life on a daily basis.  I have White friends on FB, Instagram, and at work.  Lately, I’ve had to put disclaimers on my status’ and posts, and what I say in group settings.  Sometimes I don’t even speak at all.  Because of the impact it could have on my job, my life, my relationships is too great. {Which is a PROBLEM}

The . . . silencing of my voice is getting to me.  It’s making me fall into depressive states on a regular basis.  When I trace back the origins of all my waves of depression in 2017, it was an instance when I silenced myself in some way.

I’m not Racist . . . . I’m Black. This shit is HARD.

Before I’m a woman, before I’m a Social Worker, before I’m a Friend, before I’m a Daughter, I’m Black.  The burden of that . . the weight of that in today’s society is slowly sucking the Joy out of me.  It’s like you have a 1,000,000LB weight on your back, and every white person can’t see it.  Better yet, they keep saying to you, “Girl, it’s just 3 flights of stairs.  You can do it, because I did!” It’s making me bitter. It makes me think snide ass comments about Whiteness, then feel bad for thinking it.

To ME: My Blackness is beautiful.  My skin is damn near flawless, I haven’t aged since I was 12 (I have the pics to prove it.) My hair is amazing.  I can do 1000 things with my natural hair, and it will be just as beautiful. My curves are sexy – these hips can hurt you if I want them to, or they can change your life. The original woman probably looked just like me.

To Society: My Blackness makes me less than. My Blackness is ugly, and the exact opposite of Beauty. My hair is ugly, dirty, and nappy.  My curves are unhealthy and I don’t deserve to sit comfortably in any chair, ever.  People who looked like me, were shaped like me, where kept in museums and displayed at circuses. {Look up Venus Hottentot}

Adulthood for me, is finally understanding the real meaning of the following poem:

Mother to Son

BY LANGSTON HUGHES

Well, son, I’ll tell you:

Life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

It’s had tacks in it,

And splinters,

And boards torn up,

And places with no carpet on the floor—

Bare.

But all the time

I’se been a-climbin’ on,

And reachin’ landin’s,

And turnin’ corners,

And sometimes goin’ in the dark

Where there ain’t been no light.

So boy, don’t you turn back.

Don’t you set down on the steps

’Cause you finds it’s kinder hard.

Don’t you fall now—

For I’se still goin’, honey,

I’se still climbin’,

And life for me ain’t been no crystal stair.

This is Blackness in 2018.  This is Me.

Can You Hear Me? Do You See Me?

Awaken My Love…

I had two goals for this trip home. To see the people who matter to me, and get all the food I’m about to give up for the rest of my life. The latter isn’t working out all that well. But this blog is really about the former goal. 

I’ve stated since college, that I created my own family.  I’ve picked and chosen who I was going to rely on and trust.  I’ve actually been doing it since high school though.

My freshman year of high school, I met my best friend. Our relationship has been through so many things, sometimes I’m in awe that we’ve made it this far. But during this trip home I realized she’s my sister. We don’t even have to talk to have a whole conversation. We became a Triad our sophomore when I introduced her to a friend from biology class. From that point on, there is no picture that I could find that isn’t the 3 of us. 

We were always together, even after I changed schools. We did everything together. I was a triplet for about 6 years.  As friendships do, folks starting fighting over dumb shit (read: boys, drugs, and money) and I was the friend in the middle for a while.  Then I was the friend alone. We made up, in some shapes and forms after college, but that closeness from high school seemed to be unattainable.

In college, Zeta brought me my brothers, and another 2 sisters. They looked out for me, even when I didn’t know they were. Even though some of us didn’t develop our relationships fully until 7 years ago, the foundation started there. It’s hard to meet people, and instantly connect. Let alone if that connection stays through kids, heartbreak, marriages, and location changes. 

This trip, I got to finally introduce my high school best friend to some of the other people who make up my core. And it brought me so much Joy. Cuz she gets it now.  Why these people matter so much to me. Why I am who I am now, because of these relationships. 

In October, I sat down with the other triplet and just talked it out.  It wasn’t pretty but it was necessary. Because we let something small become something huge that changed our lives forever.  This trip, the 3 of us went to lunch. 4 hours went by so fast! It was like old times, a conversational ebb and flow that I’d forgotten could exist. 

I’m so glad we did that. I don’t know where it’s going to go, but I know that friendship isn’t stuck in the past anymore. We are grown ass women, which grown ass lives, who can still make each other laugh, cry, and think. I had missed that so much more than I probably wanted to admit to myself.

In the past, I refused to mix friend factions. Everyone had to stay in their proper lane, no merging.  I can totally understand why I did that, because I wasn’t secure in those friendships. I had yet to realize that I mattered to them as much as they mattered to me. But now…I want them all together all the time!

This trip for me has firmly solidified for me why my core group of people are so important to me. It’s also shown me, that if thrown in a room together they would probably all love each other. The mix of personalities and humors and world views would always lead to good conversations and adventures. To road trips, and girls weekends, and grown ass sleepovers. 

Cuz it’s all love. I can bask in being the hub for all this love, being the person who could bring them all together, and not be worried that I might lose them to each other.  I think they all kind of like me at this point 😀. 

These are My Confessions Part 3: Open Windows

I chose my Therapist. Purposefully. He had worked with a former client of mine, and he struck me during our interactions as a smart man. Who understood the dichotomy of being black in Tucson, and how it would affect a child in the foster care system. 

So when I made the decision to seek out some profeasional help, I called him first. I crossed my fingers, and hoped he was accepting new patients. I know it was God that opened up that spot, cuz the day before I called him he had closed out a case. 

Today, was the first time I laughed and smiled during a session. Last week was 30 minutes of tears, because the world is so scary. But today, I laughed so loud and long. Because I’m figuring shit out, finally. My emotions are no longer taking over my rational mind. Which is beautiful. 

I laughed because he is so quick to call me on my shit. Sometimes he can just do it with a look. He doesn’t allow me to be ashamed of anything, he makes me address shit. I’ve been living in survival mode for so long, I’d forgotten how good mental clarity felt. 

Today, I smiled and laughed and talked about my feelings without fear. I caught myself speaking some truth I wasn’t expecting. I’m changing the way I interact with people. I’m letting people in, and it doesn’t terrify me….as much. It’s progress. 

Therapy is frequently my favorite part of the week. For an hour, it’s all about me unpacking my life. It’s dedicated time each week to do the work. Part of me still thinks it’s hella selfish. That I could be spending that money on something else. But that’s a VERY small part of me. Because I’m finally starting to see the results of the work. 

Confession #3: I leave windows open for those people I’m hoping will come back into my life. 

I don’t usually announce I’m leaving the window open, but it’s there. Cuz I’m quick to block people I no longer want to have access to my life. Be it via Social Media, or by blocking their phone number and/or email addresses. When I’m done, I’m done. 

My laughter in today’s session came from the realization that I blocked my family on social media….but I didn’t block the Unicorn. Cuz I’m hoping he comes back. I’m not done with that yet. I’m not done with him yet.  Do I want to just tell him off, or am I hoping there is another chance somewhere in there? I don’t know. I know, up until he started liking my pics on Instagram recently, he wasn’t on my radar. But I hadn’t denied him access, I just took away MY access to him. 

Truth be told, he hurt my feelings. Deeply. Until I get to say that to his face, I’m going to always feel a way. And that’s okay. Maybe next week, I’ll unpack that a little bit more. But I’m still smiling, cuz everything for a reason and in its own time.  

Home is where the Heart Is . . .

You know how people say that, and it pisses you off because what the hell does that even mean?!?! Okay, is that just me? Maybe it is. Whatever don’t judge me, you don’t know my story. (I mean unless you read my blog then you probably know my entire life story.) Anyway, on my recent rip to Arizona, I’ve made some interesting observations that I would like to share.  Here they are . . .

1) I Am A Nomad.

This is a very important observation.  I don’t like being in one place for a long period of time.  I need a variety of scenery, and different things to do.  Without that variety, I get bored, and then I do dumb things.  More than just needing variety, I work better with a very precise set of circumstances.  I need a job that has a variety of responsibilities.  I need to be able to craft my life around my schedule, and not the other way around.  I need to have a readily available support team – be they family or otherwise – I can go to when I need something. As my Sorority Sister once told me, “You are consistently inconsistent.” That’s a very accurate portrayal of me.  I’m a flake, but I’m reliable when I’m not in Flake Mode.

2) Tell People They Matter, before you can’t tell them again . . .

When my Nephew Fred Lux died last month, the only thing I could think about was, “Did he know how much he was loved?” People need to know they are valued.  People should know you rely on them to get through your day.  At work, at home, when you go to the mall . . . Doesn’t really matter.  If you haven’t told them how important they are to you, assume they don’t know.  There were 500+ people at my Nephew’s Funeral . . . Standing Room Only.  People took time off their jobs, on a Wednesday, to make sure his family knew that he was important to everyone he encountered. Tell people they matter.  It’s not just about stroking their ego, it’s about touching their heart.

3) I will never NOT work with Kids . . .

Kids are the greatest thing ever in life. And not for a weird reason, but because they are the personification of innocence in a very messed up world.  The smile of a child is enough to change the direction of your day . . . If you let it.  I spent this vacation with children for the most part.  My nieces and nephews, the kids I used to babysit when I lived here, and even stopped by my old job.  The thing that struck me was that they remembered me.  Not all of them remembered my name.  But I made a lasting impact in some kind of way.  From a kid saying, ‘Hi Applehead’, to the little girl who couldn’t even speak, she just hugged me until I walked out of the door.  My reason for being, is to work with children.  To educate them, to be a friend, and to help them at whatever stage of life they happen to be in when they cross my path.  The absolute understanding of that concept was baffling to me when I was younger.  At 31, it’s a challenge.  Can I be what I think I’m supposed to  be. Can I live up to that standard? I’m not sure,  but I think so. I’m excited to see just how far I can go!

4)My Father Loves Me . . .

I know that sounds weird, but it has taken me a long time to accept my Father exactly as he is.  For years, I expected him to be what I NEEDED him to be.  Then, I expected him to be what I WANTED him to be. About two years ago, I came to the conclusion that I had been doing it all wrong.  Understanding  you will never be able to control another person’s actions creates a kind of relief.  You can stop holding them to the standards you have set for them.  When I left Arizona, I explained to my Father that I needed something from him, that he wasn’t able to provide.  But I wasn’t upset about it.  I just understood what I needed in my life at that time. But I love my Dad.  For every conversation where he tries to protect me from my own stubbornness, to his gestures of acceptance as weird as they might be to others.  I’m at the point in my life where I’m so GRATEFUL I have two Living Parents.  I can go to them in need of advice, and they actually respect my dilemmas/issues and give me solutions without Judgement.  Growing up is sometimes awesome.

5) True Friends are hard to come by . . . 

I’m not talking about people you see everyday.  I mean the people you don’t talk to for MONTHS, but one phone call makes it feel like they are right next to you.  My Best Friends all have “titles” – White Boy Best Friend, High School Best Friend, Lesbian Best Friend, etc. – But their Best Friend status is not based on their label/title.  It’s based on how/what/when/where/how they have been with me throughout my life.  I’m learning in my old age, friends are there when sometimes family chooses not to be.  I’m grateful for the people who call me friend. Those who listen to me talk about my life, and don’t judge me or my actions.  Those who might have a completely different outlook on life, but still embrace mine.  Friends who teach me how to make a new meal every time I see them, and who don’t judge me for late night texts/IM’s about my dastardly deeds.  I’m really blessed, and appreciative for all of you!

Thanx for Reading!

SideChicks: Picking up the Pieces when you stop doing YOUR job . . .

*Editor’s Note: This Blog is going to piss you off.  Just stop reading now.  If you keep reading, it’s your own fault if you feel some kind of way at the end.  I’m not even writing this to piss you off.  I’m writing it to tell MY understanding of SideChick Subculture. It’s better you read you this now, than get a SideChick Declaration of Ownership text message someday.  I’m just trying to help.*

Four Years ago, I wrote about my own experiences as a Side Chick. It’s a good read before you view the rest of this, as my attitude as been altered a little bit by life. Please understand this . . . I’m over SideChick Slander.  Not because I take it personally, but because it’s dumb.  We Slut Shame the SideChick but hail the man as a Pimp/Player/Boss/SexGod. With all the SideChicks who seem to be PROSPERING right now, I think it’s time to look at why.  But First, a Mini-Rant about #BlackTwitter and Scandal.

Scandal is one of the greatest written shows on TV right now.  And the Main Character is a Side Chick. The Presidential Side Chick! She has a job, friends, and a life.  She just happened to fall in love with the soon to be elected Leader of the Free World.  But according to #BlackTwitter, we have to hate her based SOLELY on her SideChick status.  Supposedly, she is breaking up a home, and ruining lives.  Which is a GOT DAMN LIE! Fitz don’t Love Mellie.  He ain’t neeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeva gonna love Mellie.  But every Thursday, my TL is full of people (mainly men) bashing women for caring about Olivia’s emotions and thoughts.  For sympathizing with her in her daily struggle to let that Presidential Love go.  STOP IT! They will deal with the consequences of their relationship and be judged by whatever Higher Power their characters worship.  

Back to my original point . . . either I attract the shadiest females/males known to man into my circle, or y’all are some delusional ass people. SideChicks STAY winning.  Stop lying to everyone else on your timeline, and maybe even to yourself.  People cheat every damn day.  SideChicks become Step-Mothers every damn day.  Married Men step out of their house into the arms of another woman every damn day. And they gives not a FUCK about anyone’s feelings.

I’ve never hidden the fact I played that role once or twice in my life.  It wasn’t always on purpose, but it is a title I have held.  What I have hidden, and for good reason, is the amount of times I’ve chosen NOT to play that role.  I’ve been ASKED to be the SideChick more times than I would actually like to count. (7) For every person I’ve turned down, I’ve been asked again.  I’ve been propositioned by people I see on a regular basis, and their significant others have no damn clue. Ya’ll are living in a fantasy world where your man/woman is the most faithful person in the world.  Stop Lying to yourself. I’ll Help You.

1) Why Did I Get Married?

That’s not just a Tyler Perry Movie.  That’s a question you need to ask yourself.  If the answer to the question isn’t because I know this man/woman wants to look at my ashy ass every day, chances are someone in your relationship isn’t happy.  When you said I Do, did you listen to all the Vows? The Love Honor and Obey everyone hears.  Did you pay attention to that Honesty thing though.

A large portion of my male friends from High School/College are married or in serious relationships and have been for years.  Wanna know why 90% of them got married?  Because they felt like they had kept her waiting long enough. {Yeah, they admit that kind of stuff to me, probably because I’m the only person who actually asked.}  People get married for every reason under the sun other than Love.  Love ain’t got nothin’ to do with a better credit score, or a place to live, or them kids that need to be in daycare you can’t afford alone.  Men aren’t the only people who get married for all the wrong reasons. Women do it ALL the time.  The need for security, or at least the illusion of security is real out here in these streets.

This isn’t to say there aren’t any relationships based solely on the love and devotion of two people, but Keep It Real. People who go into a relationship with Rose Colored Glasses, will get those colored lenses broken. {This refers to having an unrealistic expectation of what Marriage/Committed Relationship are actually about}  It might take a few years, but one day you will wake up . . . and you won’t remember why you were in your relationship in the first place. When starting a relationship, we try to put our best foot forward.  Show the best image of ourselves.  We might even try to stay on the straight and narrow path, and ignore our previous patterns of behavior.  But if you are in a relationship with someone and have to hide any part of yourself, that person is NOT for you.  But you know who will accept all your flaws . . . The SideChick.

The SideChick doesn’t CARE that you were a heaux in college. {She might have been too} The SideChick doesn’t care that you have kinky sex fantasies.  The SideChick listens to you complain about your wife that never cooks, and quietly cooks you a meal.  The SideChick picks up her phone every time you call, and makes sure she is ready when you come over. The SideChick doesn’t ask you for money to get her hair done, and she doesn’t usually want anything but your attention.  The SideChick is everything your wife of 5+ years isn’t anymore.  THAT’S why The SideChick is still out here winning.  Because as long as your Wife/Girlfriend/Fiance/Baby Momma is off HER game, she will be on her’s.

2) But Can You Whistle

Place two women side by side.  They have the same exact educational background and general knowledge.  The are similar in build and facial structure.  One can Whistle, the other can not.  Most men will choose the Whistler, because she has a little something extra.  The SideChick is a Whistler.  Her ability to whistle isn’t the sole reason she is usually placed in the SideChick role, but it doesn’t hurt her in any way.  Men usually want to have the best of the best.  They want to have something no one else has –  be it a car, or a house, or a woman.  If the opportunity arises, the SideChick will whistle alllllll around your man if you let her. Examples of SideChick Whistling:

• Ability to Orally please your man (If you won’t do it, he will find someone who will)
• Similar opinions regarding sexual freedom (If he can TALK to her about doing it, he will do it with her)
• Her culinary prowess is unmatched (The quickest way to a man’s heart is the lower half of his body. . . )
• Silence is Golden (What Happens in Vegas Stays in Vegas)

In this brave new world of Female Sexual Freedom, Whistler’s are EVERYWHERE. The way to deal with this SideChick influx is to FIGHT BACK! Learn a new skill.  Find out who your man is, BEFORE he tells you while he’s over the SideChicks crib.  Talk to your man about his needs. If they don’t fit you, then move on.  But if you are adaptable, adapt.  Cuz SideChicks are the most pliable, malleable, adaptable individuals on God’s Green Earth.

3) Game Recognize Game (Social Networking)

Facebook Messenger and Twitter DM have ruined a MYRIAD of relationship.  I watch it happen everyday.  Guy says something sexual. Girl comments/retweets. Witty TL Banter ensues . . . then they both disappear from the TL/Newsfeed.  It. Has. Begun.  The SideChick will NEVER blatantly approach your man. He will make the first move. The minute he drops those 10 digits (Remember when saying 7 digits was sufficient) and they have that initial, ‘You know I been feeling you, but you got a girl tho . . .‘ conversation, the SideChick has won.

If we have learned nothing else from Kwame, Carlos Danger, Dwyane, and Swizz . . . it’s that men will say ANYTHING to the woman who will listen.  A man will sit at work and text the SideChick all day long. Between meetings, on trips to the bathroom, doesn’t really matter.  He wants attention, and the SideChick is going to give it to him . . . Point. Blank. Period.

It’s also important to know . . . The seasoned SideChick isn’t trying to get caught.  She knows it’s much more stress to have to fight a woman in the street about her man than be a Freak in his Bed.  The seasoned SideChick has an app on her phone that hides messages from certain people, and tells your man about it.  The seasoned SideChick actually has a Google Voice number so that your man doesn’t know her number.  What people fail to understand is that some people choose SideChickery {read: The Act of SideChicking} as their main source of relational interaction.  The reasons behind this are actually irrelevant.  This is a lifestyle, NOT a pastime.

4) Why are you Caping for SideChicks and not calling out men?

If you’ve gotten this far in my blog, and think I’m caping for SideChicks, then you have missed the point.  I’m not making excuses, I’m explaining common behavioral patterns.  I’m trying to put all women up on the game.  Lack of Knowledge = Failure to Succeed.  You might have been raised to be a certain kind of person, and your Man/Husband/Fiance/Baby’s Father might have been raised to seek out and marry that EXACT type of person.  That doesn’t mean people’s needs can’t change and the eye can’t wander.  The Cheating Man is an asshole. So is the SideChick.  Most people are assholes though.

Even after my travels to the Land of SideChickery, I believe in Love.  I believe that Two People can come together, and create a lasting bond that satisfies all their needs.  I believe this because I had for a brief time myself.  I know people who live this kind of life everyday.  Millions of men are tempted to cheat every day, and DON’T. The kind of relationships I’ve just described were achieved by honesty and communication.  If a man can’t be honest and communicate {without fear of judgement} with his mate, he will eventually attempt to find someone who affords him that option. The same can be said for women.  I really just thought someone should share their intimate knowledge of the SideChick Subculture with the masses.

Thoughts?

Family Ties…

Sooooooo this is one of those I just need to get some shit off my chest. So it might not make any sense to whoever is reading it. But yeah…so that’s the disclaimer.

1) Family is the most important thing in the world to me. It always has been. Because I’ve seen what not having a supportive family can do to a person. I’ve watched my clients, my friends, and even some of my family suffer because of their lack of support. I’ve even written blogs about it.

There are several different branches of my family. But I’ve never really fit into any of them. My family is my mother. Later in life I added some brothers/sisters/nieces/nephews in there,  but my mom is always there.

I’ve never thought my cousins liked me. It wasn’t one specific incident that made me say,  ‘Wow they hate me.’ But I never felt welcomed. I wasn’t around when I was younger because I wasn’t invited for the sleep overs, family outings, random get togethers, etc.  (The politics of all that is another blog for another time.) But because I missed the random family bonding moment I always felt like the girl on the outside. My first friends weren’t my cousins,  they were my classmates.

Today, something happened that was both embarrassing and hurtful.  And it made me realize that I get to chose whether nor not to feel left out. When your family laughs at or about you, and never with you…why deal with them?  When people believe the words of others without even checking with you, why defend yourself? When your family constantly denies that you have any knowledge in the profession you’ve worked for 13+ years, why give advice?

I can be disrespected by Strangers at work and get paid for it. Taking what I deem as abuse for free is just fucking stupid.

So in that same vain of thought…my circle has just gotten smaller. It was already small so I guess the word is miniscule. I create my family from this point on. And the application progress is grueling as all the hells. 

So yeah…that.

Black Girl Pain – Life Support . . .

As part of my unofficial Dealing with Depression Series, I want to talk to you about Support Systems, and why they are so important to making you who and what you are.  This is going to be broken into sections, because my view of support systems, and what they consist of is based on my life and my life only.  I’m not a psychologist.  I’m just telling you what I know, what I think, and what I wish other people would understand.  Feel free to disagree with me, dialogue is important!

What is a Support System?

The people who have your back no matter what.  I’m not talking about the boys you go out to the club with, or your girls at work.  I’m talking about the people that keep you sane, and make you think.  The people that question you, and your decisions. Not because they think you are stupid, but because at the end of the day, they want to make sure you are going to be okay.

When I was younger, I thought everyone had a support system.  I thought every family was like the Henry Family.  A family that consisted of strong men, who wore suits everyday, and went to work everyday.  Men who graduated from college, and supported their family.  Women who were college educated, and made career choices based on their skill level, not just what was available.  Women who made sure their children got the best of everything, and understood their worth as individuals.  In the bubble that is the Henry Family, that was the STANDARD. Not the Exception.

Because my family was raised around like minded people, that is all I saw.  There were 5 or 6 huge families at my childhood church.  They all were raised in the same way, thought the same way, and lived their lives the way we did.  When I was younger, my whole life was Littlefield St and True Love Missionary Baptist Church.  I was extremely sheltered from the Real World, and as I get older, I am so pleased that I was.

The Real World . . .

is SCARY.  There are all kinds of people who are out there to hurt you.  So yes, I stayed inside my bubble that was cultivated just for me.  It wasn’t until I got to public high school that I found out that people who said they were your friend would actually stab you in the back.  I’m a very naive person, because I intrinsically believe that people are good.  Even though I know that bad exists, I was raised to be a GOOD PERSON.  I was raised to do the right thing, even if you don’t end up winning.

I Was Raised . . .

and not everyone was.  Your first Support System should be your parents.  They are the people that instill the first set of values in you.  Those core values, that you take with you for the rest of your life.  These are the lessons that should explain the ways of the world to you.  But what if your parents aren’t there for you? What if their priority was each other, or drugs, or alcohol? What if through no fault of your own, your parents just weren’t there?

Then you have had no form of guidance.  You have no way to figure out what is right or wrong.  OR, your perception of Right Vs. Wrong is easily viewed based on your survival. OR, your perception of Good and Evil is based on what you observed in your youth. You might do things that are not necessarily legal because you need to eat, or you have to take care of your younger siblings, or you need a roof over your head for the night. You might completely violate the boundaries of another person, and not understand why they are so upset.  How you see the world is most often based on the World You Have Seen . . .

Survival of the Fittest

Those who make it prosper, those who don’t will have a hard life.  This isn’t to say that everyone can’t make it.  But those that rise above to overcome usually have found a reliable support system.  Sometimes, your friends can be the family you never had.  Sometimes, your extended family treats you better than the people that should biologically care the most about you.

The point is, if you want to survive you will.  I recently asked a friend who his support system was, he could only think of one person.  He has been supporting himself for so long, he stopped relying on others.  Honestly, he’s one of the most well adjusted people that I know, except for one area of his life. But the area causes him the most problems, is based almost solely on the lack of a support system.

After You’ve Done all You Can

I have lots of friends, who feel that Jesus is the only form of Support you need in your life.  Feeling there is a higher power who has some input in the happenings of your life didn’t just start with Christians.  It’s been around for quite sometime.  Celestial Support Systems are great, if you are actually dedicated to them.

I’ve seen lots of folk who only ask for support during the bad times, and give themselves all the credit when things are going great. Whether you believe in The Secret, The Bible, Wicca, or the Qur’an: use that belief to lift people up and support them. Don’t use it to tear people down.

The Point of it All . . . .

is knowing that you NEED a support system.  System implies that there is more than one person involved.  I have some friends that I can tell everything and have no fear of being judged.  Some friends that I have to only tell certain parts of my life. I have the FaceBook 40 aka #FGSSUM07, a group of people that I would have never dealt with had it not been for the Internet.  I have Sorority Sisters and Frat Brothers, Twitter Friends and GChat Buddies.  I have friends that became family, and family that became friends.

I am truly grateful that I have a system of people that support me.  That worry about me, and want the best from me.  Yes, at times it can be a pain in the ass, but more often than the not, it’s a blessing.  Because even within my Support System I have friends who have never been as lucky as I am.

. . . Each One Reach One . . .

We often find it easy to walk away from people when things aren’t working out.  To end 10 year relationships because we aren’t getting our way.  Just remember, if that person was once a major part of your life, you might have been part of theirs. You don’t want to leave them rolling around looking for that Piece of Themselves that was lost in the fight. . .